


Pure Sky Blue

by orphan_account



Category: Melody of Oblivion
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-07
Updated: 2008-06-07
Packaged: 2019-06-14 11:13:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He was a creature of light and purity trapped in human form.





	Pure Sky Blue

From the moment Toune first saw him, she knew he wasn't human. It wasn't because of the shining horn protruding from his forehead and the fear and hatred he received from the townspeople – no, it was something deeper than that, something more than physical, something that resonated with her on a level she couldn't quite grasp. He wasn't human; he was a creature of light and purity trapped in human form.

He had to be a unicorn. Standing in the trees quietly like he was a part of the forest, and incarnation of natural beauty, he was a silent protector. He could not be approached; he could only be watched. Maybe, someday, if she were lucky enough to gain his trust, he would carefully step towards her, one delicate hoof at a time, and lay his head on her lap, the purest declaration of affection.

But then he had looked at up at her from his seat in the darkness (he wasn't meant to be in the basement, he was too beautiful for that, too bright), stepping purposefully forward and straining his neck towards her. She could hear his silent plea. _Touch it._

Her feet stepped back but her hand moved forward, a light touch on his sky blue horn. She was doing something far too intimate, dirty, even, defiling his grace. How could he say that it was meant for her? Clearly mortals should not be touching it.

His horn was, at first touch, cold and hard like metal, but it warmed at her fingertips, vibrating under her skin with a living pulse. She gasped as it shone in front of her and she could see his lips part as his lids lowered, his gaze never leaving hers as he transformed.

This was wrong.

He was not supposed to be a creature of metal and oil, something made by dirty human hands. He was supposed to be above that, transcendental, eternal, even. Something to watch from afar. Something to worship.

His motor hummed and whirred and even without touching him she could feel it throbbing through the ground, the feeling crawling up past her knees to the tattoo on her leg that she alternately loved and hated. The mark felt warm, pleasantly warm, and Toune felt sick. She ran.

_Do you have the authority to give me orders?_

To anyone else it would have sounded rebellious, hateful. Toune knew better. A single venomous word had never emerged from his mouth. He had no room in his heart for anything but love. No, that statement was not a question, not a complaint: it was a plea.

He wanted her to tame him, to slip the golden bridle over his neck and pull it just a bit too tight for comfort (some moments she thought he wanted her to pull it tighter, pull it so he couldn't breathe and he would like it more than she could stand), to know that he belonged to her. To be commanded, to be owned, broken in and saddled and ridden.

She could never be so presumptuous as to do that.

And so she left. She ran away, she _knew_ she was running away, but she couldn't give him what he asked for and it hurt to deny him anything. He should have been drinking the nectars of the gods, but instead he was drinking the tears of children. He should have been natural and free, not bound by a foolish and blind human (all humans were like that, Toune knew by now).

But he waited for her, and she knew he was waiting for her. He would wait forever, wait until she was old and ugly and he was still as young and beautiful as the day she met him and when she came back he would still love her unflinchingly. The day she realized that, she returned to the valley. She would not leave him alone and waiting forever with his hand full of the tears of others, unable to carry his own.

The jewel that had rested warm against her chest for so long left a cold place when she took it off. “Sky Blue,” she told him. _You may be a machine made by men, but you will always be as pure as the sky._ He looked so incomplete without his horn, so barren. His neck arched upward as she brought the horn towards him, his forehead meeting the horn halfway as the hungry look in his eyes was satiated. Toune regretted then taking his horn away from him, keeping him half instead of whole for so long. How could she have been so selfish?

The first time she rode him was both terrifying and exhilarating.

His entire frame buzzed from the force of the motor, and his metal was hot to the touch. The first time she rode him it burned her on her thigh over her Meros tattoo, but the pain was soon gone in the face of his incredible soothing warmth.

Sky Blue may have looked childlike, but he was not a child. He was not unicorn – not in the sense that Toune had understood – and he was not a human. But he was alive. Some divine energy pumped through his engine as blood pumped through a human heart, revving louder as Toune squeezed the handlebars. Somehow even when he was like this she could see his body and the back of his head – sometimes he looked at her when they were driving, eyes shifting backwards for a moment and the expression of the purest joy on is face. His sides heaved like that of a horse galloping, but for all the heat the only sweat on his metal was hers (of course he didn't sweat, he would never do something as dirty and human as that).

When they raced along from the road and rose in a leap from the ground to the air and she pressed herself against his humming machinery, she sometimes felt like she was becoming one with the pure blue sky.

 


End file.
